Trial of Leadership (11/11)

A fortnight; that was how long the company of Thorin Oakenshield had occupied the creaking planks and watery byways of Lake-town. The amazed denizens had accepted their presence, though the mercenary gleam in the Master's eyes still gave Bilbo shudders. A round of feasting had filled out lean bellies, but it could not touch the deeper hunger, which could not be satiated by food.

Bilbo tread softly, accustomed now to the sway beneath his feet as the current pushed and pulled. Before him, the lake was like a great inky glass, reflecting the night sky in a wavering reflection. It was beautiful, even though Lake-town was not. The city stood on moldering wood, ripe with dank and oozy smells. It had no feel of a hearth to it, no home-feeling. And that, more than anything, reassured Bilbo of the rightness of their quest.

'It's not just the dwarves suffering from the evil influence of that dragon,' thought Bilbo. 'It's the whole countryside.'

However, it wasn't the fate of Lake-town that concerned him this night. He found the person he was looking for leaning against a guardrail, face turned toward the far shore. Kíli was so absorbed he took no notice of Bilbo, though he didn't try to conceal his presence.

He cleared his throat deliberately, and the shaggy head lifted, silently watching as the hobbit joined him. Bilbo had to stand on a crate to manage it – 'Blasted big folk and their confounded dimensions!' – yet one look at Kíli and his irritation withered. He reached inside his vest and took out an apple, giving it a polish before pressing it into Kíli's hand.

"I noticed you barely touched your supper. Your brother wouldn't approval, you know. This quest has been short enough on commons already, and we can't afford to miss a meal."

"I haven't had much appetite," admitted Kíli, turning the apple in his palm. "And I don't sleep. When I was in that cell in Mirkwood, I had so much time to imagine terrible things, but I think this is worse."

Bilbo understood what he meant. He, too, had far too much time to think about the fate of Fíli and the others. Sometimes he had nightmares of their bodies warped with sticky webs, and was forced to watch as one of those great, fat spiders stroked them with its pedipalps then reached down to feed with a rasping mouth… He shook his head to dispel the awful image.

Kíli was looking across the water again, thin-lipped with anxiety. "It's taking everything in me not to seize a boat and go searching for them, Bilbo."

This was were Kíli and Thorin were different. Kíli was willing to take off into the wilderness in search of his brother, forsaking all other responsibilities. Yet Bilbo had sat through enough conferences with Thorin to know his mind. He was convinced that if their missing companions were alive, they would come to Lake-town: 'He knew where we were headed. If they're well and fit for travel, Fíli will bring them here.'

'And if they're not well?' Balin had asked as they sat in tense communion.

Thorin let silence drop before he answered. 'Then they are beyond our help. We'll give them as long as we can, but when Durin's day is upon us, we'll have to move on.'

'Without Fíli?" Bilbo declared.

'The quest must succeed,' Thorin said, placing his hand upon the hilt of his weapon. His head was bowed as though under a great weight. 'Even if my sister-son is not beside me to share it.'

It was a hard counsel, and Bilbo had to swallow hard around remembered frustration and grief before he could speak. "Please don't, Kíli. We couldn't bear to – to loose someone else."

Kíli flinched, and Bilbo immediately regretted his choice of words. "You don't know my brother," he said. "He led them out of the forest, Bilbo. I know it. He wouldn't – he wouldn't leave me alone."

Sorrow filled Bilbo as his mind went back to loved ones he'd lost much too soon. "It isn't always our choice."

Lapping water broke gently against the poles supporting the platform. The stars wavered, in and out, as though they too were shifting on the tide. Certain he'd done more harm that good, Bilbo started to step down from his crate, but Kíli snagged the edge of his sleeve before he could. "Bilbo."

The hobbit looked up. "Yes?"

"In Mirkwood, you asked me to tell you a story. I know you were trying to distract me from thinking about my brother."

Feeling somewhat abashed that his intentions had been so transparent, Bilbo ran his hand over the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. "Well, I could hardly leave you sitting alone in the dark like that."

Kíli's eyes were milder than before as he said, "It was kindly meant. That's why I told you about the birds."

Bilbo fondly recalled the young boys from that distant time and place – poor, harassed Fíli with his flashing gold hair and little Kíli, wickedly presenting dead birds to one farmer after the other in order to collect his bounty. "It was a good tale."

Kíli looked up at the sky, and the stars reflected in his dark eyes. "Would you like to hear another?"

Even without asking, Bilbo knew that this story would not be the same as before. He hesitated, but how could he refuse? Kíli needed him now as much as before, and Bilbo sensed that what he wished to share was important – something to do with why Kíli could not doubt his brother, not even when every speck of evidence pointed to the fact that he was…that he was gone.

Bilbo rested his forearms against the guardrail. "Tell me, Kíli."

As though weighed down, Kíli rolled his shoulders. His voice dipped confidentially low as he began. "Once, when we were lads, soon after Thorin brought us to Ered Luin to foster us, Fíli and I were exploring the woods. We didn't know the area well yet, and Thorin told us we weren't to go far. We didn't disobey him on purpose, but there was a sudden drop off, and we fell. When we regained consciousness, the sun was almost down and we didn't know where we were. Even the next morning, we couldn't find our way back."

Bilbo ached for them, even though it was only a memory. "I would have been terrified."

Kíli nodded his head, a storm cloud over his brow. "We wandered for a long time, many days. Then we stumbled on a village. Not dwarves. Men."

Bilbo imagined two tiny dwarrow, vulnerable and alone, surrounded by a town full of big folk. A chill of dread went down his spine.

Far away in his thoughts, Kíli didn't seem to notice Bilbo's discomfort. "We were desperate. Down to gnawing on our belts and boots. We needed help."

"Did they give it, the town folk?"

Kíli cleared his throat. "Some men in the west hate dwarves. They believe we're squatting on their land and take business from their smiths and masons."

There must have been so many dwarves looking for work during the early days of exile, and a people who had nothing worked for little. Even once they were established, Bilbo knew that dwarvish craftsmanship would always trump all others. It wasn't hard to imagine how the displaced nation might be despised. Yet even so, he could hardly imagine taking out such enmity against children.

Bilbo's heart constricted. "What happened, Kíli?"

"While Fíli was trying to reason with them, I rummaged a rubbish bin behind the tavern. I was caught." He spat the word as though it angered him to repeat it. Then he held out his long, strong hands, which stretched so easily around a bow. "They caught me and were going to cut off two of my fingers."

"No!"

"Oh, yes," Kíli hissed. "For 'stealing' scraps not fit for a compost pile, they would have maimed me."

"Thank goodness they didn't," Bilbo said vehemently.

Kíli crossed his arms, tucking away what he'd almost lost. "Fíli begged them not to. He wept, pleading with them to see that I was a baby, that I hadn't known it was wrong, that he was responsible for me."

Bilbo could hardly bring himself to ask. "And?"

"And they had mercy. Reduced the sentence. They put me in the arms of some woman and they beat my brother while I watched. Those bastards beat him, and then they locked us up in a gaol. We might have died there, too."

"You didn't."

"I was devastated, Bilbo. I've never cried so hard, then or since, but Fíli wrapped his arms around me and said – he said, 'Don't be afraid, we'll be home soon.'"

Bilbo tried to imagine what could make a hurting child have so much faith that he could still comfort his younger brother in such a situation. He thought of the quieter son of Dís, and was struck by a memory of their first meaningful encounter.

It had been the night he left the Shire. That evening had been full of wild sounds, and Bilbo had never felt so lost. As he sat trembling before the fire, too unsettled to appreciate the rough company of his traveling companions, Fíli had suddenly leaned over and tucked a handkerchief into his hand. "It's okay to be homesick," he'd said and then went back to his tobacco pouch as though unaware of how Bilbo's hand clenched around that threadbare square of cloth like it was the last one on earth.

He still had it folded inside his vest pocket.

Bilbo's throat thickened as he began to understand. Fíli had an ability to bring calm where there was none. He was steady, not easily moved by circumstance, and it made him like a wall of solid stone: a safe place to put your back. He remembered what Kíli had said in Mirkwood, about Fíli's temperament standing in stark contrast to his family's fiery nature.

'You're like opposite sides of a magnet, aren't you?' he thought, looking at Kíli, who was quickly loosing ground as he was forced to stand alone. 'Opposite natures, but the force that draws you together is powerful. You're stronger together.'

"What happened to you both?" Bilbo asked, imagining the darkness of that gaol.

"Thorin found us three days later," Kíli answered. "He took us home. But I've never forgotten."

Bilbo didn't understand. "Forgotten?"

"When it comes down to it, Fíli will be anything he needs to be to protect the people he cares about. He'll do anything – bear anything – and that's how I know, Bilbo. He did survive the spiders. He did lead them out of the forest, and he is coming. Fíli won't disappoint us. He doesn't know how."

"Kíli –" There was a part of Bilbo that wanted to protest, to protect both of their hearts from the anguish of hoping, but he couldn't. 'Since when were you one to give up hope, Bilbo Baggins?' he castigated himself. Out loud, he said, "I'm sure you're right. Dwarves may be pigheaded with terrible table manners, but you're also the most perseverant lot I've ever met."

Kíli looked at him with a smile in his eyes, the first in a long while. "Thank you."

And that was when the air was filled with the sound of bells. The discordant clamoring interrupted the quiet evening, and all around them – from every window and every door – lantern lights began to be lit. Soon the whole town was awake with curiosity. Bilbo and Kíli looked at one another, but before they could go investigate, a figure came barreling around the corner. It was Glóin, looking both frazzled and elated. "A ferry's just coming in," he declared. "It's the lads!"

Bilbo's eyebrows disappeared under the fringe of his hair. "All of them?" He hardly dared to believe it.

"All," Glóin explained gleefully. He waved. "Come on. They're almost arrived."

Too overcome to speak, they ran for the unloading dock and reached it just as the lopsided, leaking vessel touched the landing. It was being eagerly paddled by a most exultant ferryman. "Found them on the south side of the lake. Bedraggled as a knot of seaweed, but I knew 'em. Knew 'em for more a'them dwarves. Didn't even charge 'em passage!"

His triumph was well deserved, for his cargo was precious.

It was one of those rare times when Bilbo was glad to be an outside observer. With keen satisfaction, he watched with heady relief as his friends were reunited. Dori was openly sobbing, his great arms cast around both his brothers. They humored him, Nori patting his back in a slow, affectionate manner, while Ori barely looked as though he minded having his face smashed into his brother's bosom.

Bofur was teasing Bombur, who was sniffing loudly into a handkerchief the size of a soup tureen, while Bifur made happy motions with his fingers. At the same time, Bilbo caught sight of the sons of Fundin pounding their forehead together, just as they had that night in Bilbo's smial.

But most of all, Bilbo watched as the last figure stepped out of the boat just a trifle unsteadily, aided by Bard's helping hand. Fíli paused to pass a few words with the man, and Bilbo saw approval seep onto Bard's distrustful face. Yet there was only time for a few spare words, for Kíli had forced his way through the crowd and flew at his brother with so much force they both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Bilbo was momentarily alarmed, but then his heart soared as a sound he had sorely missed reached his ears: twin laughter, filled with honest joy. It filled up all the empty spaces that had grown so large, until every bystander smiled, infected by their happiness. Bilbo scrapped his eyes with the heels of his hands, inwardly remonstrating, 'Bilbo, you sentimental old fool,' and began to squeeze through legs and hips, intent on making his own greeting.

He made it to the front in time to see Thorin reach his nephews. They froze under his shadow, and Fíli looked up. Thorin drew him to his feet. They did not embrace, but even Bilbo could feel the intensity of Thorin's emotion as he rested both his hands on Fíli's shoulders. "Well met, Nephew," he said.

Fíli bowed his head, one hand finding its way to his heart, a dutiful salute from a subject to his king. Then he smiled, as bright as the sun. "Did you doubt us, Uncle?"

"Nor for a moment," Kíli said, attached to his brother's side.

Thorin solemnly nodded. "Not even for so long as that."

"What on earth happened to you?" Glóin wanted to know. The company had drawn near, like loosened stitches drawing closed.

"Well, first there was the spiders." Bofur began counting on his fingers. "And then the Long Marshes, which have been highly misrepresented, then mires that tried to swallow us whole, poisonous snakes, a river of death. Then we were made captive by men, but we escaped when the orcs attacked."

"What?" Dori cried in dismay, and Ori went "Urk!" as his head was squeezed even tighter.

"It sounds as though you had a hard road," Balin said, brushing his white beard thoughtfully. He looked them over, at their ripped and splattered garments, ruined with water and dirt. There was a bruised look to their eyes made them seemed stretched thin, but they stood with their heads high.

"Oh," said Fíli. "It wasn't so bad as Bofur makes it sound. We survived."

"Though a little worse for wear, I see," Óin commented, peering critically at the stitches peeking out of Fíli's shorn hair. Thorin brushed Fíli's forehead with his thumb, careful to avoid the jagged line. There were other scratches, too, and Bilbo remembered how stiff he'd seemed getting out of the ferry.

That was when Dwalin stepped to Thorin's side. "We were well lead, Thorin."

His meaningful look left no doubt of whom he spoke, and pride smoldered out of Thorin's dark face. He drew Fíli's eyes with a touch. "I'm not surprised."

Bofur crowed, "And now that we're a company of fourteen once more, we're ready for a true celebration!"

"Hear, hear!" shouted Glóin, whose eyes were almost lost in his red face. "A pint and a toast as soon as they can be had!"

A cheer went up, as bombastic as ever, and Bilbo knew that things would soon be back to normal. Fíli was already fading into the background of the boisterous merrymaking, wearing that quirky grin, as though there were some secret joke which only he knew. He seemed content to stand quietly, letting Óin fuss over him while his brother babbled in his ear.

Yet Bilbo couldn't help but notice that not everything was the same. Something had shifted. Ori no longer seemed content to follow at Dori's heels like a puppy, but stood with his shoulder's lifted, filled with assurance. Bifur keep one eye on Fíli's back, like an honor guard, and Nori and Bofur kept glancing his way, too, as though they'd grown used to searching his face. Most telling of all was the change in Dwalin. Before he had treated both Fíli and Kíli with a kind of brusque fondness, but now when he looked at Fíli there was difference and deep respect. It was a look Bilbo had only seen directed at one other person: Thorin himself.

There was a tale there, Bilbo knew. One that would come out in time. But it seemed it had served good purpose. The missing members of their company had made it back, and now they were whole again. In the morning, they would make new plans. Plans to reach the mountain, to face a dragon, and – if fate was willing – to restore the dwarves of Erebor to their kingdom. But when they did, Bilbo strongly suspected would be two sons of Durin leading them.

One before with his imperious tread –

And one behind, bearing a nobility that shone when needed, like a spark at the bottom of a bucket of coal.

Author's Note: All done. There were times I really struggled with this story, which needs a lot more polishing. A beta would really be helpful, so if you know of a reader familiar with The Hobbit who wouldn't mind being contacted at some point about a future project, I'd appreciate that contact. For those of you who saw this story through, your feedback was truly kind and I appreciate it. In particular, I'd like to thank repeat reviewers. You're wonderful!

Special Thanks to These Repeat Reviewers: Celebrisilweth, delovlies, Eryndil, Lady Chekov, Mjean, ncis-lady, Shiningheart of ThunderClan, Thomas H. Bombadil, Thorny Hedge, and TMI Fairy.